


Here's To Your Happily Ever After

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, UST to RST, meddling relatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: Lady Meserole doesn't want her nephew to be lonely any more.





	Here's To Your Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a drabble prompt meme on tumblr. The prompt was "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know, sir, she looks pretty spry for a corpse," Commander Vimes said as they walked into the lavish sitting room in Lady Roberta "Bobby" Meserole's mansion in Pseudopolis.

"Yes, so it would seem," Vetinari replied through gritted teeth.

She sat on a sofa, drinking champagne. "Ah, Havelock, how was my funeral?"

"Flamboyant and unnecessary," the Patrician replied, leaning on his cane.

Madam tutted and refilled her glass. "I wouldn't go so far to say that. Now it's their move. Have they tried to kill you yet?"

"Twice since I've left the city. It’s like they’re not even trying.”

“Maybe they’re just being polite since you’ve just had a death in the family,” Bobby chuckled into her glass.

"I'm sorry, but what is this all about? Did you," Vimes looked back and forth between Vetinari and his aunt, "did you two plan all this?"

"Oh no, commander, my nephew is in the dark for once, and believe me that was the trickiest part of it all. But where are my manners? We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Lady Roberta Meserole, but you may call me Bobby or Madam. Havelock tells me only good things about you." She extended her hand.

"He does?" The commander gave Vetinari a surprised sideway glance before he stepped forward.

"Oh my!" Madam exclaimed. "I'm sorry, but my eyes aren't what they used to be, Commander Vimes, or is it…Sergeant Keel?" Her gaze snapped to Vetinari's face. "You're aware of this, I presume.”

"I think we have more pressing matters to discuss." Vetinari pointed out.

"Oh, come now, we can spare a minute," she looked positively aglow with delight. She reached for Vimes’ sleeve and tugged him down until he sat next to her on the sofa. She bent closer to stage whisper into his ear, the words carrying to the other side of the room.

"Sergeant, did you know Havelock over there pined for months after your untimely demise?"

Vimes' mouth dropped open, he didn't dare look at Vetinari's face, but couldn't help to hear the sharp intake of breath from the Patrician's direction.

"Can we get back to—“

“Our mutual acquaintance from Überwald told me about the sketches he used to doodle in his journal,” Bobby continued in a conspiratorial tone. “It was obvious he had paid a great deal of attention to your every detail.” Vimes blushed when she waggled her meticulously drawn eyebrows at him.

“Madam!” Vetinari fumed. “Are you punishing me for a specific transgression, or merely for your own amusement?”

“Oh dear. He still takes everything so seriously. Lighten up, it was over thirty years ago!” She snapped before she turned back to Vimes in a much more convivial tone, “I understand you’re a married man. And you have a child?”

“Yes, madam, we have a son,” Vimes replied dutifully, trying to pull his hands out of Lady Meserole’s surprisingly strong grip. He only hoped he would survive so he could see his family again at this point. It was a long way back to Ankh-Morpork and accidence could happen, especially when an angry assassin was involved.

“Excellent,” Madam beamed. “That means the question of progeny has been taken care of and you’re free to pursue other—“

“This conversation is over!” Vetinari growled and stomped out of the room while Vimes still sputtered.

When the Patrician had gone, Bobby patted Vimes’ cheek. “I see how you look at him.”

“Didn’t you say your eyes weren’t what they used to be?” Sam retorted, trying to reign in his expression and failing. Was he that obvious? The woman had known him for all but five minutes and he was sure he hadn’t cast any glances at Vetinari the entire time. Of course that didn’t mean she was wrong. Damn!

She chuckled. “I see why he’s so fond of you. Now shoo, it’s not a good idea to let him stew too long in his thoughts. He’s got a funny mind, that one.”

She gently shoved Vimes into the direction of the door. His feet already obeying before his brain agreed it was indeed the best course of action if only to get away from this woman.

“Good luck,” she said to the empty room. “I’ve done all I can, my dear boy.”

*~*

“Go away, Vimes,” Vetinari said without looking up. He sat at a small writing desk in his suite; the old-fashioned quill scratching over parchment.

“No,” Sam replied, closing the door behind him.

The scratching stopped to be replaced by a sharp intake of breath from the Patrician. He carefully put the quill down and glared at Vimes.

“I hope you’re not under the delusion anything my aunt said will change how this works.” He pointed at Sam and then himself.

“Why are you mad at me? I didn’t do anything.” The commander pointed out before he narrowed his eyes. “Or is that the problem?”

It took less than a heartbeat before Vetinari had jumped out of the chair and breathed into Vimes’ face. Sam suppressed a shiver. Damn Madam and her shrewd eyes! Did everyone in this family play games with people’s lives for fun?

“I expected better from you,” Havelock hissed. “I know you hate me but mocking me I’d have thought was beneath you. Guess I was wrong. And now, commander, get out of my room, and we will never speak of this again, do you understand?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but are you angry at me or at your aunt or both of us? She, I can understand. But I fail to see how I’m at fault. I came to check how you are because I was concerned. There are after all assassins out there to kill you. Wasn’t this why you brought me along in the first place?”

This close Sam could see the muscles in Vetinari’s jaw clench. Meeting his aunt had clearly torn a huge hole in the man’s otherwise impeccable mental defence. He suddenly noticed they were both panting. Havelock’s eyes darted to his mouth. Sam suddenly felt the urge to lick his lips.

“Just for the record, I don’t hate you,” Vimes heard himself mumble. His hands developing a mind of their own, reaching for the front of Vetinari’s jacket. He more felt than heard the gasp because Havelock’s mouth was already brushing against his.

They kissed hungrily. Stumbling through the room, crashing into the furniture and leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind until they made it to the bed. And just before coherent thought became impossible, both men quietly made a mental note to thank Madam later.

Much later.

The End


End file.
